


Ineffable

by impish_nature



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of the notpocalypse, Don't copy to another site, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, doubts and dreams, warning: talks of falling, what things are truly ineffable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: The notpocalypse is over. They've won. They can finally rest.Only, Crowley notices that Aziraphale doesn't seem to have gotten the memo.He just hopes that its not him the angel has changed his mind on.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 103





	Ineffable

There was something distinctly _off_ about Aziraphale.

Crowley couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was though. It was like a sudden shift in perspective, a hall of mirrors that didn't quite resemble reality. Nothing had seemingly changed and yet the world was tilted ever so slightly, knocked off kilter, drastically but invisibly altered. Still, he felt propelled to act as usual, to pretend that this was all ordinary for them instead of nauseatingly _wrong_. 

And so he danced around the issue, distracted and simpered and snarked. It was his way. To pretend, to observe, to hide behind his mask and let his mind turmoil whilst his face smiled a confident, cheeky expression to the world and to his angel. 

And he was _so_ in turmoil, so scared, so nervous as to what it all could mean. He pushed and pushed and yet his angel drifted further and further away from him. He'd thought it would be different now. Thought that their arrangement could become something more now that they had chosen where their loyalties lay- chosen _their side_. Them against the world, against heaven and hell. It had all seemed so brilliant and perfect and everything he'd so desperately hoped for.

Only it wasn't. 

But it also was.

A dream within a dream and he so desperately wanted to hold on to it, so desperately in fact, that he was scared to question what all... _this_ meant.

His every step edged fleetingly across a tightrope that served as a double edged sword as he watched the angel go about his every day. He'd wound his way into that every day, slinking soft and charming until his presence was a norm, until exasperation turned fond and endearing. But now he could only watch. Watch and wait for the fall, for the opening chasm of doubts to fill him up and for whatever was happening to finally reveal itself in all it's terrifying glory.

Perhaps he already knew, deep down, what the problem was. The fault, the fissure. It had always been there after all, stopping them moving forward. He'd hoped they'd bridged the gap, hoped that all this had meant that Aziraphale felt the same way but, perhaps-

Perhaps that was not the case.

Perhaps he'd projected- insinuated- crept into Aziraphale's home and life until there was nothing he could do or say about it anymore. 

_Perhaps_. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps-

"Crowley?"

"Hmm?"

Crowley snapped out of his musings, his elbow slipping from the back of the sofa where he'd been resting it and in return it had supported his head, which now came crashing down into the plush furnishing without anyway to stop it. He heard the soft laugh of his bastard of an angel and for a second, things were back to normal, better than normal- how things should be. He groaned pitifully, glasses askew as he glared up at the still chuckling man.

"My dear, you really do fall asleep in the strangest of positions."

Crowley bit down on his tongue, bit down on the words that wished to pour out. The indignation first, how he hadn't been sleeping, how he'd been watching him potter about the bookshop. How it had been relaxing and peaceful at first, until Aziraphale had picked up a book and frowned distastefully and the sour expression hadn't seemed to leave even when he went back to what he'd been doing that normally gave him so much joy. He'd seen the man try to find the best in every scripture he'd ever picked up, anything to compliment, to give humans their due credit for whatever they had created and yet he couldn't seem to muster it that day and Crowley had watched, and slowly his thoughts had turned on him-

But that was all too much. Too much communication, too much honesty. The indignation he could muster, he could swallow that down easily but the shame of being known? Of being worried? It didn't matter that it was Aziraphale, and it didn't matter how he acted- admitting it was another story altogether that he would not stand by.

It would also open up the floor for further discussion, pull the wool from both their eyes to present them with that indisputable _something_ that still rested between them and he wanted to pretend- just for a little longer, just for a few more millennia if he could stomach it. He'd waited so long for this, he'd gone through the grief of losing him once already that the thought of it all over again- but this time as acid from the angels own mouth- he wasn't sure he could bear it. 

He'd rather drink holy water than have those words pour from Aziraphale's lips onto his own. 

_I'm sorry but-_

He was sure it would hurt less too.

"Crowley? Are you sure you're alright?"

Crowley blinked as a warm palm pushed the hair from his forehead, light fingertips pressing softly against his skin. His eyes focused once more on Aziraphale's face, eyebrows furrowed in concern and worry as his eyes darted across him. He couldn't help the pang of relief in his heart, the doubts slipping ever so slightly back into the recesses of his mind. 

Maybe it was all in his head after all. Perhaps there was nothing wrong at all. 

And yet there was something there, something indescribable in the depths of the other's deep blue eyes. A dark spot buried at the bottom of the ocean that Crowley knew hadn't been there before. 

But perhaps, he could do something about it. Hadn't he always been good at temptations? At distractions?

The hand on his forehead slipped down to cup his cheek, warm and heavy and still filled with a concern that seemed to vibrate out of every pore and into his skin. He shifted towards it, pressing his lips against a palm and watching from behind shadowed lenses as the deep set frown lines melted back again in soft relief at the trace of an unseen smile against a hand. 

"Just a bit distracted. Dinner?"

The darkness deep in Aziraphale's eyes seemed to lighten, shifting to warmer waters and tropical climes. "Hungry? What do you fancy?"

"Whatever you want. Surprise me." Crowley huffed out a laugh as the other mulled over the possibilities, bright smile forming as his hand slipped away. It was colder without its presence against his face but at least his angel seemed to be back in the room with him, instead of far away in his own thoughts.

The doubt still lingered though, ever present, resting at the base of his skull, even as his distraction worked it's miraculous wonders on the other.

Whatever it was, he was sure it could wait. Just for a little while longer.

...He was _so_ good at pretending.

* * *

The feeling never truly went away, it only seemed to get worse. 

It was strange to watch his magic work, to see bright moments of joy and laughter, only for it all to dissipate moments later without discernible reason. 

To watch as a smile fell as soon as prying eyes were thought to no longer be around. When laughter trailed off into an awkward half puff of air that denoted the taste of ash and despair of a comment not hitting the mark quite as it should. To feel lingering hands that pulled away just that second too early as if the touch burned. To feel kisses that lingered on his neck and then flinched slightly away as if the action had never been justified. 

He'd hoped it was just him getting used to the change. The interactions they were now allowed between them and had never been before. That dreaded feeling that they were doing something wrong when they weren't, when this couldn't be wrong- not something this pure that they had both waited so patiently for. 

But the strange disjointed motions seemed to be getting worse, not better. More uptight instead of more relaxed.

And every single movement tugged at his heartstrings, told him that now they could do this, his better half was realising that it was never meant to be.

The reality could never live up to their expectations.

Or well- not Aziraphale's. Crowley had always tried to stop himself from hoping, from yearning. Anything, everything was better than he had ever let himself imagine. Which was why it was so difficult to bring up the rather large elephant in the room that seemed to be growing larger and larger each day. 

He almost wanted to ring up Anathema, or Newt- some human who might actually get the weird rush of, quite frankly, human emotions he seemed to have been saddled with and rather desperately needed to get rid of so that he could just enjoy the moment.

But knowing them, they'd threaten him with Adam, who could _actually_ put an elephant in the room until he took charge of the situation and spoke to Aziraphale about- well, everything, that was between them.

Honesty really wasn't a demon's best policy though. And quite honestly, he was also sure it never led to anything good.

All it would lead to was- well, something outside of their new normal.

And as stilted as that could be, it was still better than anything he could have ever hoped for.

If Aziraphale wanted him gone, he could surely stay oblivious until he came out and said it, right? He could let Aziraphale continue to lead him on, to tempt him, if it meant letting him stay within his orbit for just a little while longer... right? That wasn't that selfish, was it? To wait until Aziraphale finally voiced all of his doubts about them? 

And if it was selfish well... out of the two of them, he thought he had the most right to be.

* * *

_Oh no, this is it._

Crowley could see it on his face, see the words stuck tight to the tip of his tongue. 

They had been out for a walk, just the two of them in the summer sun, no real rhyme or reason, just a soft wander through the back streets of London. It had been peaceful, quiet. A warm tranquil pace to both conversation and motion as they chatted inanely about old times, about places they'd visited before and their childish amusement at all the shenanigans they'd accidentally, or in some cases purposefully, caused. 

It was teasing, bright and charming in the freedom of it all. Of being able to be out in the open, speaking about the arrangement without fear of the angels and demons who might hear them and realise that they weren't quite who they were meant to be, that they were pushing the boundaries of their respective positions to be who they needed and wanted to be more than duty could ever dictate.

But the summer sun had gone behind a cloud, a strange gloom pushing through their conversation as they walked past another familiar place. Instead of continuing their earlier jokes, the cajoling of where to go next and amused jabs at each others expense, Aziraphale had stumbled to a halt, eyes locked painfully on what Crowley had hoped would be a fond memory for the both of them.

He knew what was there without turning his face away from Aziraphale's tempestuous gaze. He'd slowly been gravitating near it, thoughts on an old warmth that he hadn't acknowledged at the time but had kept close to his chest as a keepsake for all time after. It had been such a nice afternoon of old stories that he had hoped this would be another one. The area looked different, not just because he was seeing it in daylight now against the last time they were there, but because the rubble had been removed. The debris, the chunks of stone and wood had been replaced, rebuilt, shattered glass painstakingly recreated, refreshed with new life and flickering colours.

Crowley remembered watching on fondly, walking past more than once after their clandestine meeting there. Humans were always so ready to rebuild and keep moving forward, that he couldn't help but stand and marvel at how much they could achieve in such small lifespans.

And how strange it was, how times changed but stayed the same. How moving forward didn't mean completely forgetting the past. Throughout the years, the generations, humans clung to familiarity even if they had never seen what had been before. How children grew to repeat what older generations had built, all in an attempt to keep that connection, that small, fragile thread of life and death and everything that came with it. Ancestry was such a foreign concept, and yet it fascinated him in the intensity with which humans built their lives upon it. 

Sometimes it surprised him, that yearning to keep what had been there before, but it couldn't surprise him nearly as much as the nostalgic expression on his angel's face slipping into something more pensive, more regretful and distant as his eyes locked with the building before him. It made Crowley's heart beat in his chest, a feat that rarely came about as there was no need for it. He found himself holding his breath too, a sinking pit in his stomach opening up as he finally tore his eyes from the other's conflicted gaze and turned to the church before them.

It wasn't the church they had once been in. Not the one that he had danced haphazardly down the aisle of, in pain, at his own expense to help his rather oblivious angel. No, that one had been reduced to rubble, that very same night. He hadn't thought to try and save it, it held no sentiment to him. A church was just a building, one that was hellbent on reminding him of his past misdeeds. No, all that he had felt the need to save was a small suitcase of books that had fallen behind the conversation forgotten, only remembered in a burst of shock and disappointment as his counterpart believed them gone.

It was the warm feeling after, that he had hoped to expand upon by his wayward feet bringing them here. That flush of relief and gratitude- and dare he say it, _love_ \- that he had felt on the small of his back as he took his leave and left the angel standing with his arms full of books and his heart filled with him.

What could he say? He was a hopeless romantic somewhere deep in the hell fires of his soul. Or perhaps he just liked to think that the soothing aura of love around his angel sometimes really was _just_ for him and not everyone and everything else at the same time.

Which made it all the worse, that there was the bitter tang of despair in the air around them now, a cloying cloud of remorse that stuck to his exposed skin like a film, and lingered slimy and cold against the back of his hand where it brushed so closely against the others listless one. It would take just the slightest motion to touch, to twine their hands together, but the fear of the burning cold stopped him, the pain of the frost that might entail kept his hand tightly at his side.

It hurt enough as it was, to feel the puffs of cold against the back of his hand, feel it in the hairs on the back of his neck and in the deep seated shudder down his spine.

He didn't think he could bear to truly feel the remorse, the knowledge that what he thought he knew was wrong. That they didn't feel the same way about the memory, that he had projected too loud and too hard and that now the truth would break him. 

_You go too fast for me._

He wished he could take it all back. Rewind his wayward feet bringing them here. Take them somewhere else, somewhere less significant. Or at least a different kind of significance. Not this, not this moment that obviously brought so much pain and made Aziraphale think- really think about everything between them. 

He wasn't ready for him to choose. Aziraphale wanted to go back, for whatever reason that he would never understand, he wanted to be with them instead of him. And he wasn't _ready_. Wasn't ready for him to say the words that he knew were coming-

"Crowley..."

Well, he understood the not wanting to be with him bit. That made a jarring amount of sense. He'd never deserved an angel, not his angel, not after everything, not after falling- why had he ever thought that this could work, could last-

"...Do you think- that is- why-"

Crowley tried to tune in, tried to lock on to the words, but there was a screaming in his ears that told him just to run. To slither off into the darkness and pretend he'd never heard any of it.

He was good at pretending. Maybe if he ran, he could keep on pretending, just for a little longer-

"Why haven't I fallen yet?"

Crowley blinked.

Then blinked again.

The screaming in his ears had stopped. In fact the whole world seemed to have gone into a deathly hush. He was pretty sure he hadn't stopped time again, but the way the world seemed to have stopped moving he really couldn't be sure.

Especially when Aziraphale was staring at the church still, unblinkingly, his eyes wide and his breathing non-existent as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't even notice. Like another bomb could fall around his ears and he'd just stand there and let it happen. 

Crowley had no idea what was going on anymore.

"I'm Sssssorry?"

Aziraphale seemed to snap out of it at the word, the hiss of an alarmed snake enough to bring him to some of his senses. He shook himself, turning back to Crowley with a sheepish expression, but there was no real smile, and the abyss of his thoughts was swirling in his eyes again. "I just- shouldn't it have happened by now?"

Crowley continued to stare at him, the angel's nonchalance betrayed by the tightness of his shoulders and the tremor that shifted through his arms. In response, Crowley's arms moved without thought, resting hands on the others sleeves, soothing the shakes with soft motions that made Aziraphale smile sadly back at him, not reassured but accepting of the gesture, as if they both agreed on what he had said. in reality, Crowley couldn't make heads nor tails of the question, let alone the thought that must have been behind it.

"Can you repeat the first question? I don't think I heard you right."

"Crowley-"

"No, I mean it." Crowley shook his head at Aziraphale's raised eyebrow, a disbelieving look that normally Crowley would be amused at conjuring, but right now he couldn't find it in him to be pleased. "What should have happened by now?"

Aziraphale bit his lip, clearly taken aback and off guard. He turned his head away, eyes flitting back for a second to the church before darting away again, the biting cold returning and fizzling up Crowley's arms like a bath of ice cold water from where they connected to the other. "Nothing. Doesn't matter."

"It obviously does. Angel-" Crowley frowned as Aziraphale winced, pulling back from him ever so slightly. "I mean-"

_Why haven't I fallen yet?_

The words finally permeated. The gasp of air that left him, puffing out the ice that had swirled and mingled between them, felt like a punch to the gut, a sudden despairing pain rumbling out of his throat at even the thought, the mere suggestion-

"Crowley? What are you doing?"

Crowley blinked, his feet once again propelling him forward without his consent, his hand tight around Aziraphale's wrist. But once again he was in agreement as he tugged them both onwards, his words sharp and broaching no argument as he whisked them back away from the church that should have held fond memories and not sudden nauseating and absurd conclusions.

"I think we need to talk."

* * *

"Crowley, just- will you please forget I said anything?"

"Nope." The doors to the bookshop opened without a touch, as if flinching away from the demon who dragged their unwitting owner over the threshold like a scolded child. They slammed once they were both through, the very floor shaking slightly with all the fear an inanimate object can muster as the need for privacy snapped the 'closed' sign around with the same motion. It was only the sound of the lock clicking that seemed to bring Crowley back to his senses, the subconscious miracles he had just conjured escaping his knowledge, before he dropped Aziraphale's hand as if it burned and spun round to face him.

There was a manic gleam to him, he knew it, he could feel it in the tremor in his fingers, the tap of his foot and the dilation of his pupils hidden behind his glasses. He could feel his control slipping away as the words he had expected to hear mingled with reality, a far worse one it seemed, and rattled violently around his head so that he could never escape them.

No matter what he wanted, no matter what he had dreamed they could be, there was never a part of him that had ever or would ever want Aziraphale to fall. He didn't deserve that- could never deserve that. 

Not his angel. 

He might be a bastard, but he wasn't that much of a bastard, he never could be.

He pulled his glasses off, scrubbing at his eyes as if he could physically push the awful suggestion from his skull, before glaring pointedly at Aziraphale. He took grim satisfaction at his stunned shock in response.

"My dear, it really isn't that serious..." The lie hung between them, small and weak and so obviously false that at least he had the decency to look contrite at their utterance. Or perhaps it was the raised eyebrow he had received and the deadpan expression that had him sheepishly looking away from Crowley.

"Now what'sss all this about falling?"

Aziraphale scrubbed at his forearm, eyes still firmly glued to the floor as Crowley started to jitter more, his energy off the charts against Aziraphale's lacklustre movements. "...It would just make sense, that's all."

"Make sense? Make _sssenssse_?" Crowley raised his arms, dramatic as ever as he started to pace. He knew that he needed to calm down, that getting heated was not helping his tongue do what he wanted, nor would it help him win any arguments. "You're not making sss-sense, angel!" 

"It makes complete sense." Aziraphale snapped, the words bringing Crowley up short, his feet stuttering to a halt along with his heart which he hadn't even realised had been beating in tandem to his jittering movements. "After everything I've done- everything _we've_ done? I mean, surely- It only stands to reason- I shouldn't _be_ an angel anymore, right?" The words were coming out in short puffs of panic, Crowley instantly flitting over to him when his wide blue eyes grew wider still, grew watery and bleak, darting around, searching for some kind of attack. "It doesn't make sense that I haven't fallen- why haven't I fallen, Crowley?"

"Hey, hey..." The words were soft, placating, his fingers curling around the other's cheeks to stem the panic gushing from his lips. "You don't deserve to fall, nothing you've done means you deserve to fall."

Aziraphale laughed, but the sound was wrong and caught in Crowley's chest like a knife, twisting deep into his heart to leave an angry, weeping wound. He never wanted to hear that laugh again, that bitter despair that held so little mirth. "No? Have I ever done anything I was meant to do? Or anything I was told to? We both know I haven't, so why-"

"Stop. Please, angel, stop." Crowley leaned his forehead against the other's, feeling the soft gasp of sorrow against his lips that the soft, heartfelt motion caused for the other. But it was nothing like the sorrow buried in his chest, overflowing through his lips to beseech, to end the pain that flooded from there. " _Please_."

"...I'm sorry."

Crowley sighed against him, leaning up to kiss his forehead, his arms circling around him and pulling him in close. He relaxed only when hands in turn circled his waist, pulling him in tight and clinging just as desperately in return. 

He closed his eyes, resting his head atop white hair, letting the silence hold them close. A safe haven, just for a few more moments.

He shouldn't have pretended for so long. 

He had seen him in pain but the fear had kept him from asking the question. He'd been so afraid he'd let this fester far longer than it should have.

His angel didn't deserve this.

"You don't deserve to fall." The muffled sound of dissent was tightly squashed between them. "You _don't_."

"...I've lost faith."

The words came out, tiny and scared and lost. Oh so lost. Crowley couldn't bear it, not from him. He'd never been able to bear it from Warlock, let alone him. That voice of utter confusion and despair that meant the world wasn't as it should be, always flared up some maternal instinct, some protective spirit that grounded him and tightened his resolve to solve anything- everything- whatever needed solving he could and would solve it. "So?"

"So?" There was a hiccup of a laugh at his chest, a puff of shock at his clear and utter indifference at his words. "I think that's pretty much necessary for an angel, don't you?"

"Not really." Crowley shrugged, pulling away as Aziraphale pushed back, so that they could stare at one another. "Are humans who don't have faith inherently evil?" He smiled as the other's face faltered, twisting slightly as if to regard his words, obviously taken aback by the quick and well thought out response. "You don't have to think about it. You know the truth. If anything, I'm more shocked at you than anything else. You're so good even when you're told not to be." His smile brightened as Aziraphale looked at him, lost and perplexed, but with a glimmer of doubtful hope that Crowley desperately wanted to nurture. "Just think. Every other angel, so ready to give up on humanity and start again, so ready for a war they stopped thinking about what had been planned all along. I think that means you're the most angelic of them all." He tightened his hold, but kept their eyes locked. "You're ineffable, really."

The magic word didn't have the effect he'd desired.

_Ineffable._

How many times had he heard Aziraphale say it? So ready to believe, so ready to fight the good fight, even if they were never meant to understand it.

And yet now- now the light that he'd been trying to keep burning flickered out and died at the word, the dark swirling eddies pooling back into Aziraphale's eyes as he pulled away again.

"Don't say that."

"But you are-"

"No." The word was solid, a wall that built itself brick by brick between them as Aziraphale took another step back, further and further from his reach.

He didn't know what to do. What to say. This was all so new and strange. It just wasn't like his angel to doubt, it was uncharted territory that he didn't want to push him into further.

So instead he watched and waited, hoping that by some miracle Aziraphale would come back to him, would explain to him so that he could reach him through the vines he was ensnaring himself with and pull them both out the other side.

Aziraphale finally looked over at him, wincing at whatever he saw staring back at him, an expression that Crowley couldn't even register, himself. He had no idea what was showing on his face because inside there was nothing but the need to know, the need to help.

He couldn't help if he didn't _know_.

"I just- it's such an awful word." Aziraphale scrubbed at his eyes, ran a hand through his hair to tug as his motions grew more vibrant, more lifelike. It was nauseating to watch, to see him in so much pain, but something in Crowley rejoiced at the shift from the pensive, quiet turmoil that he hadn't been privy to before. This was an explosion, a burst of horrific energy, but it was emotion, filled to the brim and no longer suffocating in it's tension. "Don't you think? _Ineffable_ -" It fell like poison from his lips, like hellfire and brimstone and holy water, a vicious concoction that left him spluttering in disgust, his nose scrunching like they'd found the worst cafe in London to eat at. "The _ineffable_ plan."

"I mean, it worked in our favour when we needed it, didn't it?"

"I'm not saying- of course-" Crowley wanted nothing more than to smooth the conflict from his face, to stop him from yanking quite so hard at his hair but he didn't want him to pull away even further from him by making that first move. "I just... it doesn't make sense!"

"I mean that's what ineffable means, right?" It was meant in jest but the words did nothing to dissuade the righteous fury.

"I don't care! I'm tired of it!" Aziraphale banged his fist against the nearest wooden object, the vase atop the table jumping with the motion and crashing down the other side but he paid it no mind. "We're playing a game without knowing any of the rules! Don't you see how futile that is? How useless we are? How are we meant to do anything when the games outcome has already been decided for us? When we have no idea what to do next? Did we do the right thing? Did we ruin everything? We don't even know! And we never will!" There was a desperate edge that Crowley had never heard before, a plea for him to solve everything, to give him answers they both knew they would never be able to understand. "How can I have faith in- how can I have any faith at all when we'll never truly know what we're supposed to have faith _in_?"

He wasn't given any chance to answer, any response that sat on his tongue crumbled to ash the second they made contact.

"How can I have faith when I don't think the ends justified the means?"

The silence between them felt less like a wall now, more like a knife hovering above his head. A guillotine balanced precariously, that left him lightheaded and stuck fast, waiting for it to fall. He didn't know why the atmosphere had changed, didn't know what Aziraphale was even talking about but somehow he knew that the answer would cause the scales to tip and for the blade to come crashing down towards him. 

He was sure the answer would be painful, almost sure that he wasn't supposed to know whatever it was that the other had figured out- but then again, he never had been able to resist, the temptation of answers far exceeding the damage they could cause.

"What... means?"

The look of pure sorrow and grief he got in return might as well have cut him down where he stood, far quicker than any words could. 

"You didn't deserve to fall."

Crowley stared at him, unblinking. The room held a haze to it now, a buzz of tampered energy, kept at bay only by the hush of the words and the fizzling static of his blood pumping through his ears. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Aziraphale seemed to take pity on him, pushing forward through the molasses that had kept them apart. There was a warm hand on his cheek again, soft guilt stricken eyes made only bearable by the heat of the fingertips moving in soft reassuring patterns against his skin. "You didn't deserve to fall, my dear. If I don't deserve to fall, you most certainly never did." His expression tightened, anger bubbling up in his gaze, a tempest that would wreak mayhem and destruction, heavenly retribution of the highest order. "And if you fell, all for the sake of this- for her- _the ineffable plan_ -" His hand stopped its soft ministrations, cupping his cheek as he stared at him with the intensity of a storm breaking off the bay and coming in fast. "There is nothing that will stop me from finding God, not heaven or hell that will stop me." 

"Shh." Crowley's hand came up to cover Aziraphale's, fingers light and fleeting as if scared to break the storm himself with anything more forceful. "You can stop now. It's OK."

"How can I have faith in a god that would do that to you, my love?"

The words eviscerated him, hollowed him out and yet at the same time, filled him with all the love and affection that the angel held for him in one fell swoop that left him dizzy and winded.

How could he have ever doubted him?

Crowley let the love wash over him, the wave of regret and remorse and grief that he had long ago accepted coming up to greet him second hand. Aziraphale cared so much that he was going through it now, for him, all the questions, all the anger that he had poured forth through the millennia reflected back at him through unshed tears lining bright blue eyes and shaking hesitant fingers. 

_Why? Why, why, why-_

Aziraphale had chosen him. Above all else he'd chosen _him_. 

He didn't deserve him.

"Angel." The word came out as a prayer, awe and reverence pouring forth to soothe and calm. It was ironic really, just how much faith a demon could put into such a holy word and mean it all the same. "It's OK." 

"It's not though." The words were choked, the storm clouds breaking as tears finally fell from heavenly eyes. "All you did was ask why. You wanted to know things, wanted answers, is that really so wrong? You were given the job of tempting the humans with that very same knowledge but not all of them have been damned for it, so why were you? The mortals have been given second chances but you're not allowed one? Even after doing everything god wanted from you? From us? Following the lives that have been laid out for us, we still don't get that?"

"Aziraphale." Crowley laughed, a light sound that didn't fit with any of the seriousness of the situation but he couldn't help it, the joyous sound giving Aziraphale pause, to stare at him in utter disbelief. "Listen to yourself. So righteously angry for me. I still don't hear someone that deserves to fall."

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin line. The anger wasn't directed at him but it didn't stop his shudder at the gaze. Hell had no fury, not like this, not cold and calculating and filled with so much virtuous thunder. "Well, if asking questions causes a fall, I think you're mistaken. It's all I've been doing for a while now. Asking why, doubting the ineffable plan- the Almighty. Isn't that what causes a fall? And if it doesn't then why did you-" The words choked out, too painful to muster as he closed his eyes. "How can you say I don't deserve it? I was a soldier, a guardian of a gate of Eden! And the first chance I got I gave away my sword. I lied to the Almighty as if she wouldn't know what I had done! I've deserted my post so many times, I've struggled to work out the differences between good and evil, probably given in to far too many temptations to really be allowed. And yet here I stand." He gestured outwards, his eyes opening to stare desperately at Crowley. "Here I am, still somehow in grace and you- you're not, and I don't understand. Or I understand too much and you never deserved to fall at all. And if that's the case, whether you deserved it or not never really mattered. Because we don't matter at all, other than to fill out some duty- some design already decided for us millennia ago." 

Crowley stared at him, unable to speak against the onslaught. There was so much to think about, so much to comprehend and argue, that he just needed a moment to let it all sink in before he tried to help anymore.

The beat of silence was all it took. Another huff of dissonant laughter that didn't suit his angel at all ringing through the cold air between them.

"Doesn't even have the decency to let us know in the aftermath whether we made the decisions that were wanted of us." 

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't-"

Crowley didn't let him finish, pushing back into his personal space, crowding around him until he had no choice but to look, to hold his gaze and let the world fall away around them. "It really doesn't. Not now, not ever." He pressed forward, kissing him to stop the flow of words that still wished to wind around and tie the pair of them in knots, keep up the fraying tangled argument of despair from ever truly leaving. 

Golden eyes met bright blue ones and kept them grounded to the present instead of thoughts of darker times. "Yes, you've done a lot, Angel. A lot that your higher ups would shrink away from, be revolted by, we already know that. I mean, they don't throw you into hellfire for no reason." His eyes sparked amusedly, quirking an eyebrow at him as if it was obvious. "And that's not even mentioning the things they don't know about. The arrangement, the lies throughout the years." 

He watched as Aziraphale deflated, his gaze accepting as Crowley twisted their fingers together, wrapped them up further in the small bubble they had made. "But the fact that you haven't fallen, speaks wonders all of it's own." He pulled their twined hands up to his lips, kissing knuckles to placate as blue eyes hardened to ice. "I don't think you're right though. Maybe I shouldn't have fallen, maybe I should have- ancient history now, love, really. But you-" He smiled against the back of Aziraphale's hand. "You? You don't ask questions out of selfishness, out of curiosity. I just wanted answers, answers I wasn't allowed, but I refused to let it stop me. You? You ask for me." There was clear affection in the tone, pure unadulterated warmth and gratitude. "You can't stand to see others in pain and so you do what is necessary, regardless of the consequences. You gave your sword away? Fine. But it was only to protect the mortals you were meant to guard. What's wrong about that? You lied. Again, to protect them, to let them keep using the gift you had given them. You couldn't let them wander the world alone even if you weren't allowed to follow them. Time and time again, you've pushed the boundaries of good so that others don't have to. I don't see the harm in that, not really. Not when playing by the books meant damning the entire world to the end times. Not when every other angel would rather fight in a predestined war than care about how it would affect the mortals they were sworn to guide and protect."

Crowley dropped his hand, watching with some small satisfaction as it lay poised where he left it, unable to pull away and ever so slightly dazed by his words. He was nothing if not enamoured when he could make the other so speechless. 

He pushed the hand slightly away though, his thoughts and feelings on more pressing matters as he pulled Aziraphale closer still. "You ask for me." He kissed his forehead. "You ask for them." He kissed his nose, chuckling at the cross eyed expression as he came eye level with him, words ghosting over his lips. "You love so much, so brightly." His eyes flicked down to the others lips, warmth spreading through him at the vulnerability of it all. "An angel that can even love a demon, what's more virtuous than that?"

"Crowley..."

The utterance was more of a sigh than a word. A sound of pure endearing affection that he couldn't help but preen at.

"What? I mean it. The other angels couldn't stand to look at us just after the fall. After what we had done to ourselves. But you? You see the good in everyone. Even me. Even when you never should have." He could still feel it now, even all these years later. That act of kindness that needn't have been. An angel on the edge of paradise, giving shelter to a demon as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. 

It was the first time since the fall that an angel had been _kind_ to him. Had been anything at all, really. 

He supposed it was meant to show how awful they truly were, when even all-loving creatures despised them so. But really, as the years had gone by, he couldn't help but notice how much more it showed about the heavenly beings, not them.

Sweet lips pushing against his brought him back to the present, the feel of feathers still fluttering around him and the first smell of rain filling his senses as he stared into mirrored blue eyes.

"It's not hard to see the good in you, Crowley."

Crowley grinned, raising an eyebrow, yellow eyes sparkling amusedly. "Not hard to see the bad in me either though, is it?" 

Aziraphale shook his head, quiet laughter rumbling from his chest into Crowley's. It soon turned into a sigh though as the angel nuzzled forward, resting his chin on the crook of Crowley's neck. "The demons don't deserve you."

The words were plaintive, soft and sad in a way that hurt Crowley to his core but also lifted him in the strangest way. 

Aziraphale thought he was worth it all, worth loving. He would fall a hundred times if it meant keeping him by his side. 

Now he just had to get through to him that all that mattered now was what they did moving forward.

And so he couldn't help but carry on lightheartedly, as if the words the other had spoken weren't etching themselves into his soul. "And the angels do?"

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Aziraphale move so fast.

He was surprised he didn't ruin the moment by smacking their heads together in his haste to propel himself backwards and stare beseechingly at him, willing him to believe him.

"No! No, of course not." His eyes hardened for a second, his hands tightening around their hold of Crowley's sleeves but before any more words came out the resolve seemed to drain from him. 

"...But neither do I."

"Angel." Crowley's shoulders sagged, all the tension leaving him.

Only they could ever be so clueless about the other. 

All this time he'd wondered if the other was having second thoughts when in reality...

Crowley cupped his cheeks again, both hands keeping him staring towards him though in response he closed his eyes, as if it was all too painful to stare at him now he had admitted his innermost thoughts.

"The demons don't deserve you." Crowley placed a kiss on his left eyelid, feeling the slight flinch of shock before he relaxed beneath his lips. "Neither do the angels." He moved onto the other, feeling the tension, the soft tremor through soft half clenched fingers, ease, as Aziraphale relaxed into his ministrations. "And neither do I."

Aziraphale's eyes popped open in shock, face contradicting Crowley's soft loving smile in all it's nuances. "You can't believe-"

"Oh, I can. Most definitely." Crowley kept hold of him as he tried to pull away slightly, running warm fingers through soft hair. "You're ineffable, darling, didn't you hear me before?"

Aziraphale winced. "That's not-"

"No, listen... please?" Crowley continued to stroke through his hair, ruffling it up in a way that would usually get some remark from the other but instead he seemed content to stay put and stare at him hopefully, as if he could right the world with only his words. It scared him a little, how much faith Aziraphale put in him, but then again, in this moment he wanted him to listen and believe him, with everything he had. "I don't care what that word meant before. I don't care what plans were made and whether or not we went along with them. We didn't do it because of that, we did what we thought was right. We believed that this world was worth more than what we had always been told. What came before, what happened- none of it matters."

"But it does-"

"OK, maybe it does. Maybe it was decided, before I ever did what I did, that I was going to fall. Maybe it was decided that we would save the world before we had any idea about the world needing saving. But does that make what we did any less? Does that mean Adam never really had a choice?" Crowley stared at him, biting his lip. "I'd like to think that's not the case. I'd like to think that him and his friends took fate into their own hands- and that we did too. And you're right, we might never know the answer so... does it matter? Can't we just live knowing we did everything that we could? That we're here now?"

"I- but it's not right."

Crowley sighed, shrugging. "Maybe. But it doesn't matter to me, not anymore. What matters to me is us, right here, right now." He grinned. "I drove through hellfire to get out of London, was that nothing?"

"Of course not, what you did- I know I asked you to get there, but if I'd known..."

"I'd have still done it." Crowley tried not to laugh at the exasperated look he was getting. "Just like I know if you had the means you'd still go give god a piece of your mind if you knew how to get there."

"Damn right." 

"Careful, angel." Crowley raised an eyebrow, face full of mirth. "And that's not nothing. That's all you. No plan, no rules, just you."

"I hardly think god would plan on that."

"No." The laughter did fall from his lips then. "That's what makes you ineffable. My angel, ready to take on god herself if it meant righting wrongs." He pushed forward until their lips barely touched. "Absolutely, bloody, ineffable, you are."

"Says the demon who saved humanity." Crowley let his eyes lock with Aziraphale's as he spoke, the words warming up his cheeks. "You could have changed so much once you fell, but you never did. You never stopped trying. All those times when I still believed in god and tried to go ahead with the plans without doubting- you couldn't help but ask the hard questions, not out of spite, only out of kindness."

"Oh, stop it." 

"Oh no, you are not getting away with that." Aziraphale reached up, carding his hand through Crowley's hair and down further still, as if tracing long hair that had since been cut. "I still remember your horror, your disgust at the floods. All the people who had never done anything wrong, thrown into the waters with those that had." He pushed a strand behind his ear, his eyes filled with a deep remorse. "The way you spoke to me that day, I always wondered if you'd tried to speak to god yourself, whether you asked her why... whether you thought you could change the course of her plan. At the time I wasn't sure. I mean, a demon surely wouldn't pray but- sometimes I wondered if you did."

Crowley closed his eyes, the sorrow still there, deep beneath the layers and layers of wall he had built. He remembered screaming himself hoarse at the storm clouds, remembered begging, raging, anything before taking what little matters he could into his own hands. But that was between him and god, even now. So instead all he said was what mattered. "They didn't deserve it."

"No, they didn't. But did any other demon care? Did any angel? No." 

Crowley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that big a deal." 

"If you say so." Aziraphale let him get away with it, his eyes sad even as he smiled, still playing with Crowley's hair. "But it wasn't the only time was it? Time and again, you've chosen. You chose our side above all others, even when I wasn't ready to."

Crowley pulled at his hand, twisting until it was entwined in his. "Then, are you ready now? Will you be ineffable with me?" Aziraphale had looked ready to object at the first question, affronted that he would even ask but the second pulled him short. "Because I think we can be, angel. We don't need any plans or rules, we just need to be better- our best selves. Let's give the word a new meaning and be ineffable all on our own, no angels or demons or gods required. Just- just you and me."

All at once the room seemed to shrink. It was suddenly too small, everything too close as Crowley waited for an answer. Had he asked for too much? Had he gone too fast? What if Aziraphale pulled away from him, or couldn't accept it? As much as he was grateful that the other wanted to fight heaven and hell for him, he wasn't sure what else to do to prevent him from actually going and doing it. 

He needn't have worried though. Aziraphale rolled the words over in his mind, muttering them back to himself as if tasting them on the tip of his tongue, like a fine wine or a delicacy he wasn't quite ready to rid the flavour of quite yet. He hummed quietly, Crowley relaxing at the soft sound, a familiar staple from the other side of the couch when a particularly good book had caught his intrigue. It was always nice to hear that sound in response to himself as well. 

He kept himself quiet though, waiting for Aziraphale to take the final step unhindered, not over the edge to fall with him but to the landing spot in the middle of the chaos, to walk with him to that bubble of safety where heaven and hell couldn't reach them, where they could be just- _them_ , without any other meaning or destiny necessary. 

"Ineffable, you say..."

Crowley held his breath, watching as Aziraphale looked him up and down, his face filled with affection and reverence in a way Crowley was sure he never deserved, no matter what the other said.

"You know, I think you're right. My love for you _is_ ineffable." 

"Now he gets it." Crowley beamed before the words sunk in, in their entirety. The word 'ineffable' slipping past Aziraphale's lips without causing him a wince of pain was all that he'd really comprehended before the rest of the sentence connected in his brain. There was a flood of heat to his cheeks, a fire spreading to the pit of his stomach and back again. "Wait, what?"

Aziraphale chuckled, pulling him in by his collar to plant another quick kiss against his lips. "Ineffable."

"Ngk." Crowley huffed, closing his eyes as he pressed their foreheads together.

Perhaps it was best not to question that last one too much. Getting him to repeat it might be the death of him.

So instead he let it slide, let the knowledge that Aziraphale agreed, be all that he needed as he slipped his hand through the soft hair at the nape of his neck to keep their foreheads pressed together for just a moment longer.

"Absolutely ineffable."

**Author's Note:**

> I had to get it out of my head. Sorry not sorry.  
> I really like the thought of an angel whose lost faith and a demon who still prays.


End file.
